'We still have my point-to-point radio,' the general told him.
'Will that work?'
'It should,' Samouel replied.
'The wiring is basically the same.'
'That's what I thought,' Rodgers said.
'I'm going to get us to the cable and pry the back from the radio. Then you're going to tell me how to hook it to the satellite dish.'
'Wait,' Samouel said.
Rodgers hesitated before lifting him.
'Listen,' Samouel said.
'Look for the red line underground.
Red is always the audio. Inside the radio, find the largest chip.
There will be two lines attached. One leads to the microphone. The other to the antenna. Cut the wire leading to the antenna. Splice the red wire from the dish to that one.'
'All right,' Rodgers replied.
'You understand all that?' Samouel asked.
'I do,' Rodgers assured him.
'Then go,' Samouel said.
The Pakistani's voice had become weaker as he spoke.
Rodgers did not argue with him. Pausing only long enough to squeeze Samouel's hand, Rodgers turned and hurried back to the slab.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE.
The Siachin Glacier Friday, 3:25 a. m.
Nanda did not remember much of what had happened since the helicopter had attacked them. She knew that her grandfather had died. But it seemed as if after that her mind had drifted. She was awake but her spirit had been elsewhere.
The shock of her grandfather's death must have dulled her kundalini, her life force. That forced the Shakti to take over.
Those were the female deities that protected true believers in times of strife. Using their own secret mantras and mandalas, the mystical words and diagrams, the Shakti had guarded her life force until Nanda's own depleted natural energies could revive it.
The shock of the latest explosions and the rattling gunfire had accelerated the process. General Rodgers's high-intensity activities of the last few minutes had finished it. Whatever alertness Nanda had always felt when she was dealing with the SFF had come back to her. And she was glad it had. The young woman's return seemed to have defused whatever tensions had been building between Rodgers and his fellow American.
Nanda continued to chisel, hack, and pry at the ice. She worked from left to right, cutting new inroads with her right hand while scooping out ice chips with her left. At the same time she felt for anything that might be a cable or a conduit.
With their luck they would find one and it would be made of steel or some compound they could not break through.
Whatever the outcome, the activity of chopping the hard ice felt good for the moment. It helped keep her blood flowing and kept her torso and arms relatively warm.
Rodgers had only been gone a minute or two before returning.
He came back alone.
'Where's your boy?' Friday asked.
'He's not doing too well.' Rodgers admitted.
'But he told me what to do.' The general moved close to Nanda.
'Hold on a second,' he said.
'I want to check the dig.'
Nanda stopped. She could hear General Rodgers feeling along the perimeter of the slab.
'This is good,' he said.
'Thanks. Now I need you both to move back. over by the slope. Lie there with your feet to your chin, arms tucked in, hands over your ears. Leave as little of yourself exposed as possible.'
'What are you going to do?' Nanda asked.
'I have one more of those flash-bang grenades I used earlier,' Rodgers said.
'I'm going to put it in here. Enough of the force will go downward.
The heat of the explosion should melt the ice for several feet in all directions.'
